Beautiful End

Today, you are not a wolf.

Unfortunately, you have to interact with people, who live in a society, and it's not even for the purpose of destroying said society from the inside out. Your only solace is that you're not doing this for your own sake - you're doing it because your pack needs to track down a certain someone who has information relevant to your mate, who they want to "save" or whatever.

The trouble is this: none of you actually remember this certain someone. You've deduced their existence from the negative space in your collective memories - things you shouldn't know that you do, things you shouldn't have experienced that you did, interactions that are always just missing one specific thing...and the worst of it is you're all pretty sure whoever it is that's trying to be forgotten definitely planned for you to find out and arranged all of your prior interactions in such a way that you'd track them to this place on this day, knowing a trap is waiting but being all too willing to spring it.

The thought of it makes you sick. The premise is exciting, but the execution reminds you of some lost, dark memory drifting through the sea of your very being - a millenia old thought about the day when the sun set. So, here you are ignoring all of that, sitting in an inn full of jovial drunken caravanhands and young bright eyed travelers seeking opportunity and lovestruck fans of the local famous bard, pretending to drink while actually mostly just asking barb-filled and intrusive questions about everyone you speak to in a way that makes them think "Wow, what a cool guy to drink with! Put 'er there, buddy!".

Your pack let you hang behind while they do the actual investigating because you're their escape plan. They told you to not draw too much attention and not to do too much damage when and if the time comes, something you appreciate because it means they're starting to understand they can't very well tell a beast to destroy things and expect those things to not be thoroughly destroyed.

Still, the people here are kind and warm and strong - they have no need of mercy, as expected from the denizens of your homeland. The garrison, on the other hand...

You hear a voice ring out through the frigid air, louder than anyone by any rights ought to be - it's spoken in a tongue that's completely foreign to most people here, but you understand it as one of the command taught to you by your packmate, Muji. Roughly, it means:

"Up, girl! Take it!"

Your ears twitch under the headwrapping you're wearing to conceal them, and you laugh an ugly laugh that startles the young woman you were busy flirting with. Without a single word to her you get up and leave the inn, establishing your reputation as a cold heartbreaker for about ten minutes.

(That's about how long it takes you to walk down the street to the town walls, scale them, interrogate a guard about his personal life choices before ensuring he regrets them by tossing him over the edge and howling into the sky before following him down, which establishes your reputation as an actual fucking lunatic.)

On the ground you unwrap your ears so you can take stock of the positions of every member of the usurper garrison that's converging on you. As expected, once you're sighted you hear cries of "LUNAR!" and you can almost hear Xiwen's long-suffering scream from here.

Fortunately for your dear 'leader' you don't plan to leave any witnesses alive. Only one of the children of the dragons are stationed here, and that isn't nearly enough to beat you. All anyone will know a Lunar was here, and it'll be easy enough to implicate the local Silver Pact clans. Two birds, one stone! You are a very clever dog.

You shut your eyes and focus. Your ears keep track of your prey, and the shifting of the air on your skin (which, incidentally, is rapidly becoming covered in fur) makes their actions known to you. Once you're good and hopelessly, surrounded you strike out once with your palm - directly ahead - shattering the sternum of some poor pikeman, and from there don't stop moving for even a second. Every step is a dodge that provides momentum for an attack which is also a dodge, and every strike that isn't a killing blow for one soldier is a springboard to rain death on another two. You are a scythe carrying out the harvest, just as your Master made you. An overpowering silver light steadily grows around you with each and every fallen foe, and when the arrows come this light streaks across your lines of movement in brilliant arcs to deflect them. When finally your real opponent pierces straight through your body from across the plaza with a gust of wind conveyed through the thrusting of her spear, you simply pull the light into your body, making you whole once more. With a wild snarl you begin your dance once more, ending this time with a single punch that delivers Luna's protective light straight through the Dragonblooded's heart.

You take a moment to pay your respects to the fallen for a hunt well carried out, as well as to check that you're not glowing too much. Once that's done, and before any of the townsfolk hazard journeying out to witness the massacre, you finally fully become a wolf once more, tear the heart from the woman's chest, and race out into the woods hoping for good news and a solid pat on the head when you meet back up with your packmates.

---

NOTES:

- Muji apparently just gives them dog commands in Seatongue????
- ???hunting a mystery person nobody in this circle remembers exists???
- what the fuck is wrong with sidereals
- what the fuck is wrong with lunars
- or at least this lunar specifically
- you ever just casually murder a town's entire guard force as a "distraction"
- you ever just casually steal their leader's heart
- sashay silfda does and they are getting SUCH a good grade in dog for it

This is a fun exciting montage memory! A training montage, to be exact.

It features Sashay Silfda, appearing much younger than they do now, and starts with them bounding as a wolf through a taiga, where they're found by a Wyld Hunt which they're informed was formed for them specifically, due to the fact that they've been taking literally no effort to actually stay hidden and untrackable.

The ensuing battle goes a lot worse than the one in their last memory, but at the last second they're saved by a group of fellow Lunars which also had been tracking them down. They're taken further north, past the bounds of Proper Civilization, and given a place to stay. Amongst the group that rescued them is their mentor, Strelka, who fought off the Hunt with the power...of song.

And screaming and punching a lot. But mostly song.

Notably, all of the Lunars they're living with have intricate silver tattoos, visible regardless of the form they're in - Sashay does not.

The rest of the memory is mostly them spending months in a community of Lunars learning about Lunar history, largely things they already knew and which they promptly ignore. There's a lot of attempts to get them to integrate into society and join the Silver Pact, but they refuse this to the point where they barely ever even bother to take a humanoid shape, staying as a wolf almost exclusively. Strelka is the only one they grow particularly close to, and she teaches them how to sing and how to fight properly - Sashay seems very excited about the prospect of learning to sing at people until they die. In doing this she also manages to get them to better control their powers and be less prone to mcfucking losing it.

Tragedy strikes, however, when Sashay stumbles on the group's Elders discussing them - specifically, that based on what they remember they're almost certainly the incarnation of someone who has apparently traditionally been very difficult to deal with for the Silver Pact. A plan is drafted to deal with them if necessary, and Sashay decides to save them the trouble and leave the community.

Strelka catches on to what they're doing and makes an attempt to stop them, but they fail to be convinced. In the end, she gives them one final lesson:


"Luna gave you a heart so that you may follow it. Whatever you may have heard, whatever you may remember: know that only one thing is truly asked of us, and that is that we live without regrets. So go, and live. Make Aria proud."

THINGS LEARNED IN THIS MEMORY:

LUNARS:

- created to protect Creation
- were bound to Solars to prevent Solars from becoming too powerful and also to prevent Lunars from getting sick of their shit and doing a kill. The Silver Pact was formed to maintain Lunar influence.
- Dragonblooded Exalts got sick of their shit instead and killed every last Solar with guidance and assistance from the Sidereals, and set up their own rule of Creation in an event called the Usurpation.
- Most Lunars who didn't die fighting the Usurpation fled to the edges of Creation, seeking refuge near and sometimes in the Wyld, where spooky fairies called the Raksha who lovehate the concept of 'things existing in a consistent and meanginful manner' dwell.
- Lunars have been declared anathema by the Dragonblood-ruled Realm and are characterized as shapestealing demons that possess your loved ones and destroy all that is good and holy while wearing their faces, which is not actually entirely incorrect somehow,
- The Wyld fucks people right up if they're in it for too long so the Silver Pact gives Lunars moonsilver tattoos to signify their Caste and prevent mutation.
- Raksha worship Luna too?????
- Some Lunars just straight up participate in Raksha rituals?????????
- are they furries or fairies
- LUNARS CAN GAIN NEW SHAPES BY DECLARING A SCARED HUNT ON SOMETHING, HUNTING IT DOWN, AND EATING ITS HEART. THE RITUAL IS PERFORMED THIS WAY BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN WHAT IT IS TO BE SOMETHING BEFORE YOU CAN BECOME IT AND THE HUNT IS A METHOD TO OBSERVE AND UNDERSTAND THE MINDSET OF THE HUNTED. EAT HEARTS SHIFT SHAPES
- a scared hunt can be literally anything that carries the same weight. some Lunars play fairy games to take someone's name and form. some Lunars just have sex with things like furry succubi but with identity theft instead of soul theft. are they furries or fairies

THE SILVER PACT:

- is a loose organization of Lunar tribes, packs, and kingdoms.
- seeks to undermine and collapse the Realm in order to assert Lunar rule over Creation
- trust no other Exalted but especially not Sidereals (what the fuck are those)
- except the good Sidereals. and the non-realm Dragonblooded. and the Realm Dragonblooded who care more about personal power than upholding Immaculate doctrine. and Solars we like. and
- picks up new Lunars and teaches them how to Lunar, hopefully before the Wyld Hunt kills and murders them
- will not shut the fuck up about Luna



SASHAY SILFDA:

- Mentored by a woman named Strelka, almost learned SINGING MARTIAL ARTS
- Hatred of society started real young
- Definitely a wolf
- Doesn't have the anti-fairy magic tattoos
- who the fuck is Aria
- was actually not particularly good at fighting at some point. damn
- a summary of local Silver Pact elders' reaction to learning who they used to be

This is literally just a montage of ???someone??? dying repeatedly. Hundreds of times - as the memory goes on the deaths pass by quicker and quicker.

It's always in a different place - sometimes it's a forest, sometimes a city, sometimes a city that's burning down, sometimes on a boat, sometimes on a shipwreck - the only consistencies seem to be:

1. Whoever is doing the dying is always either wielding a scythe or is some sort of hulking wolf monster

2. There is always at least a couple dozen corpses littering the area, with a few more people standing by while they're killed

3. For some reason like every person who actually delivers the killing blow has flowers growing in their hair or is exhaling smoke or is dripping water or has hair that flows in the wind even when there isn't any wind or weird stone skin???

Somehow, you were separated from your pack.

Well, that's not quite accurate, is it? No, there's no "somehow". You ran off like the stupid animal you are. You were baited, and now you're trapped in the voluminous depths of a lonely ruin, one that stinks of death and decay and emptiness. A hazy glow cascades down from the ceiling, blanketing the room you're in in what looks and feels like a sick perversion of your Lady's comforting light.

But you had to come down here. You had to follow the scent. After all - it was your mate's. Your long lost beloved other half, with whom you'd never be complete. After throwing yourself into the jaws of death so many times in the name of what was taken away from you, isn't it only right that you'd do so once more now that it's finally something in reach?

Still, there's no life down here. No real light. You can feel your mate nearby, but - even that feeling is lukewarm and faded, like the warmth of a setting sun. Like the light of a smouldering flame, it's something that yearns to be snuffed out. For the first time since you lost everything important to you, you're scared.

But you press on. Salvation is so close, isn't it? And that's when you find your mate, crouched at a ruined altar. So wonderful, so beautiful - even if it's a completely different person this time around, you know - the spark inside of that body is the one you are destined to. This is your Solar, who you are pledged to watch over and fight alongside for as long as you both live.

But then the figure stands up, and turns to you, and when it pulls back its hood you don't see the fervent light you expect. You don't see the bright features, the glimmering eyes, and you don't feel the warmth of the sun itself. No, her face is as dark and cold as this place is. Her skin is sallow and pale, her features sunken. Her eyes are a dull red, like blood that's gone still for too long. Light dances across her, but it's of a forboding and lonesome sort.

This is not your Solar. It's a parody of what a Solar ought to be, it's a joke, it's - it's -

"Oh, so you came. The methods of old still work, I see."

You tremble. Your chest tightens. It's almost too much, because it is your beloved. You know that. You couldn't be wrong. Your heart wouldn't lie. But it hurts, because this is wrong, wrong, wrong, it's all wrong -

"What do they call you in this age, dear?"

You move your mouth, but no sound comes out the first time. The world swims around you, darkness creeping at the corners of your vision. You recognize the feeling, from your memories of lives long past - and from the faces of your prey in this life here and now, just seconds before you've caught them. You try again, and you manage to stammer out:

"I-It's - ■■■■■■■■ ■■■."

"Oh, what a pretty name. How fitting, for what you are."

And then she yanks her hand, as if yanking a leash. And as if bound, you stumble closer to her. Feelings fill your heart, ones you'd not felt for ages. Love (the real kind), happiness, joy, fulfillment, and an eagerness to do whatever you must to make sure the person in front of you feels the same. But at the same time, something else seeps in - whispers of the dead and dying, their pain and suffering, the eternal cacophony of those resigned to the pits of Creation - a call for all things to come to an end, for final mercy and peaceful silence to come to all those cursed by the light of life.

It is, once again, a terrible mirror of everything you'd once known. Ages past, when you and your mate wanted to make a better world -

"I-I don't -"

"You do." she walks up to you, reaching out a hand to cup your cheek. Of course, you let her. There's nothing that you could do to stop her. "You'll help me again, won't you? To salvage the remains of our unfinished mission. To bring mercy to those who struggle in this awful, awful world."

You try to back away, but you can't. You don't want to. Not really. At the same time, two distinct feelings bubble up in your heart, fighting for dominance:

You want to embrace her, to cry, and to be happy forevermore at your beloved's side.

You want to embrace her, to cry, and to tear this disgusting monster limb from limb and save the world from its dread.

But you can't choose. You want them both as much as the other, so you stand there, paralyzed. "I can't -"

"You remember a Lunar's place, don't you?"

Slowly, you nod. She smiles gently, so gently it almost melts your heart, and continues.

"Some say a Lunar's place is in a shallow grave, alongside the tyrants they aid and abet. Some say a Lunar's place is beneath them, blissfully screaming their name. But a Lunar's place, the place where they're most happy? You and I both know that. Lunars are a weapon to wielded gracefully by those who know how to use them. They say a sword chooses its wielder, ■■■■■■■■ ■■■. Based on who's worthy. But I think we both know who you'll choose, right? Those idiots you've thrown your lot in with couldn't do half of what we did together, back then. Remember the smiles of everyone we saved? Things have changed, and maybe when we're done we won't see those smiles anymore, but...you still know what the right choice is, right?"

For some reason, you can't help but think she sounds sad. Forlorn. Lost. No, she definitely is. You can feel that. You can feel her heart breaking at the idea of carrying out whatever it is she's planning on carrying out. But -

But -

You do know your answer. There's nothing more important in this world than to bring mercy to those who need it. And you know a Lunar's place. You know what you are. What you always have been. Even when you were alone, fighting the usurpers - a weapon without direction, slaughtering indiscriminately - you knew.

"I love y - "

And then everything goes white, as you're thrown backwards onto the ground when the wall behind you both explodes inward. A Solar, a proper Solar, stands straight and burns bright, fist outstretched. Golden light dances around him, light forming an image of the shining sun on his forehead, as he scowls at your mate. "Get away from her," he growls, as two others flank him - another Solar and a girl you know to be a child of the dragons, though not one aligned with those who you hunt.

Your pack has found you. And somehow, despite your unending relief, you feel angry that they have.